"Alan Dean Foster - Flinx 5 - Flinx in Flux" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

cataloged on this frontier world," Flora explained as she laid her sample on the
table. "Structurally it resembles the mosses, though it's far more advanced than
its relatives on Earth or Hivehom or any of the other damp planets. Initially it
was believed that its reactions were purely piezoelectric in nature, but further
research by the exploiters indicates it's more complicated than that." She
smiled wolfishly. "We've been intercepting their confidential corporate
transmissions for some time now.
"In its natural state it does not respond usefully, but these soulless people
have been playing with its DNA."
"What's it been modified for?" Lizard asked.
"Carpet." Flora spit the word. "Just carpet."
"You mean people walk on it?" Ormega murmured. "A living creature?"
"It can support considerable weight. Stepping on it doesn't appear to cause any
injury. Watch."
Flora placed the square of living material on the floor. Everyone rose or turned
his or her chair for a better view. As they looked on, Flora stepped in the
center of the dense growth. The green‑and‑rust‑colored tendrils responded by
rippling toward her feet to offer additional support.
"If you lean one way or the other," Flora explained, "the carpet actually shifts
to ease you in the direction you want to go." Her companions could see that the
glistening substance was moving her slightly to her left, like a tightly‑packed
column of ants.
Gingerly she stepped off the section of living carpet. The tendrils stopped
moving. "It's a communal organism that can be grown in much larger sections. Or
sections can be shaped and bound together to fit any room. It draws necessary
moisture from the air and is nonphotosynthetic, so it requires no light. Walking
on it is like walking on air, and it even exudes a faint hibiscuslike odor. "
Her exquisite blue eyes blazed, and her voice grew taut. "But it was not created
to serve as a floor covering for privileged mankind!"
"In its natural state," Spider told them, "the Weave reacts by pulling away from
pressure, not moving to support it. A much more natural and reasonable reaction.
This"‑He nodded toward the altered growth.‑"is an abomination. It should not
exist."
Flora removed a tiny perfume flask from the curved upper pocket of her jumpsuit
and dumped the contents in the middle of the square of Verdidion Weave. Spider
tossed a small incendiary capsule on top. The six watched silently as the
mutated moss burned itself to a charred crisp.
It did not occur to any of them to think that the object of their loathing might
feel more pain from being incinerated than from being walked upon, but that did
not matter. It was not a natural growth but rather the product of perverse
experimentation. It should not exist. Thus, they wasted no more thought on its
destruction than they would on the destruction of those responsible for such a
biological outrage. The Weave, like those who were responsible for its
existence, was not worthy of sympathy or understanding. It continued to smoke
pungently for several minutes following the cremation of the last cell.
Before the last of the smoke had faded away, the man who called himself Lizard
was on his feet and speaking. He was slim without being sleek, neither was he
gaunt of face like Stick. He was, in fact, exactly ordinary in appearance, of
average height and build and younger than most of his colleagues. In many ways